


Love in Paradise

by untouchablerave



Category: Death in Paradise
Genre: F/M, Pregnancy, Present Tense, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:34:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29183370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/untouchablerave/pseuds/untouchablerave
Summary: You turn in his arms, looking up at your handsome partner, Humphrey Goodman. He kisses you gently on the lips. You drink in his scent, the smell of his skin, the feel of his lips, this is your paradise.
Relationships: Humphrey Goodman/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Whilst writing Passion in Paradise, I tried to be as genderless as possible, however, this story does include pregnancy and references 'boobs'. This is a sequel to Passion in Paradise but cannot be considered as part of the series as it is not entirely genderless as the first part was.

**Part One**

You rouse from a deep slumber, nestling further into the soft cotton of the pillowcase and pulling the sheet tighter around you. The warm breeze blows in from between the tilted blinds, as a pair of hands move across your skin. One at your hip, then your stomach, the other through the crook in your neck, then around to your chest. He palms you enthusiastically, his face appearing at your shoulder. He kisses you on the top of your shoulder, as light as a butterfly landing on a flower, then your collarbone, then your neck.

“Morning,” you whisper.

“Good morning,” he replies.

You turn in his arms, looking up at your handsome partner, Humphrey Goodman. He kisses you gently on the lips. You drink in his scent, the smell of his skin, the feel of his lips, _this_ is your paradise.

“Let’s not go into work today,” he says with a cheeky grin on his face, his lips still lingering over yours.

“We have to.”

He presses his lips to yours again. “We could work from home,” he whispers, somewhat muffled.

You kiss him back. “We would get no work done, Humphrey,” you tell him, gesturing to you both laying in bed.

“Okay fine,” he scoffs, sitting up. “Breakfast?”

“Please.”

He kisses you again and gets up off the bed, walking towards the kitchen. You sit up too, but must have done too quickly as your head clouds with fog and starts to tingle. You put a hand to your head to cradle it for a second. Humphrey notices. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just sat up too quickly,” you say. “I feel quite sick now – maybe I'll think twice about breakfast.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I’ll be alright in a minute.”

You make your way to the bathroom and sit down on the side of the bath for a moment, getting your bearings. Eventually, it subsides and you’re able to get on like normal. You wash, get dressed, and manage to nibble on a bit of toast without any further nausea. Humphrey’s brow crinkles as he looks over at you. You feel his eyes on you.

“Humphrey, I’m fine,” you tell him, without even looking up.

“Okay, if you say so. Let’s go,” he says, as you both get up. You hold hands as you walk towards the jeep where you both climb in and head towards the Honoré police station.

When you arrive, you both head up the steps towards the station, unlock the doors and step inside. As usual, you’re both here before Dwayne and JP.

Humphrey sits down at his desk, turning on his computer. You eye the front door, then him. You saunter over to the side of his desk and sit down on the top of it.

“You know, Dwayne and JP won’t be here for another ten minutes,” you purr, snaking your leg over Humphrey’s lap so that you straddle him in his chair.

He arches an eyebrow. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying kiss me, Detective Inspector Goodman,” you whisper, dragging him nearer to you by the tie and pressing your lips hungrily to his. Your mouths lock together, your breath hungry and hot as you fight for dominance. Humphrey’s hands press you close to him, as yours tangle themselves in his hair. You’re just about to suggest moving to one of the beds in the cells when there’s a cry from across the room. You both spring apart, turning to see Dwayne covering his eyes.

“Tell me you both have your clothes on!” he calls out.

“Yes, Dwayne, clothes are on!” Humphrey replies as he readjusts his tie.

“I am never going to scrub that image from my eyeballs!” he cries, feeling his way to his desk.

“Don’t be so dramatic, Dwayne. We were only kissing,” you tell him.

“I don’t care. I don’t want to see it!”

You shuffle back over to your desk, giving Humphrey a little wink.

“You can open your eyes now, _Dwayne,_ ” you coo, a little taunt in your voice to tease him. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!” both you and Humphrey say together.

Slowly, Dwayne opens his eyes and smiles. “Much better.”

Then, JP steps into the station. “Morning!” he calls.

“Morning,” you all chorus back.

He looks from Dwayne’s grumpy face to you, half-laughing, and back again. “What did I miss?” JP asks.

“You don’t want to know,” sighs Dwayne, turning on his computer.

Just then, the phone rings. Dwayne picks it up. “Good morning, Honoré police station. Yes… Mmm… okay? Oh. Right. We’ll be right over.” Dwayne puts the phone down and looks up at you all. “We’ve got a body, Chief, at the Seaside Hotel.”

“We best hop to it then,” says Humphrey, as you all get up from your desks. “Come on, number two,” he says to you as you file out. Humphrey waits for you all to leave before closing the doors of the station.

“Why is it always hotels?” you ask, as Humphrey locks the doors.

“Hotels are a great place to commit a murder,” muses Humphrey. “They’re always being cleaned.”

You all head down towards where the jeep and the bike have been parked, climb in and head off towards the Seaside Hotel which stands proudly on the beach of Saint Marie. Known for its luxury, you are greeted immediately by a porter who leads you through to the front desk. After a few moments, the manager appears in a slick, chic suit with a clipboard.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she says, immediately walking ahead. You all go after her. “I can’t tell you what a terrible situation this has put the hotel in.”

“Yes, I quite understand,” says Humphrey.

The manager leads you to the lift. You all step inside, and as the doors close you feel the awkward silence wash over you. No one says anything, you all just stand there in silence. You dare not even breathe. Humphrey is next to you, and slowly he slides his hand behind you, placing it on your bottom and giving it a firm squeeze. You bite down on your lip, trying to muffle your giggles, feeling yourself blush. You look at him from the corner of your eye and he winks at you. When the doors open, he retracts his hand as if nothing happened.

You all continue to follow the manager along the corridor towards a room that has a porter standing guard outside of it. As you walk, you all put on a pair of white latex gloves. The porter steps aside and the manager brings out a key card from her pocket to open the door.

“Dwayne, JP, dust for fingerprints on the handle, please,” says Humphrey, opening the door and stepping inside the suite.

“Yes, Chief,” says JP. Dwayne immediately busies himself with the kit.

As you step inside, everything about the scene screams that it’s a setup. Items of the room are strewn everywhere, making it look as though someone has attempted a burglary. You have seen a dozen crime scenes like this before. The room has obviously been trashed after the murder took place to make it look like a burglary gone wrong. You look at Humphrey, who looks back at you with a cocked eyebrow and you know he’s thinking the same thing. You begin writing in your notebook as Humphrey inspects the corpse. 

“The body was found in bed this morning by a member of the victim’s party,” the manager says. “The group was here on the victim’s stag do.”

“Murdered on your stag do – what a downer,” Humphrey muses. “Okay, I’ll need copies of CCTV on this floor as well as key card access information,” says Humphrey. “We’ll let you know when we’ll release the body.”

“Thank you, Detective Inspector. The party is waiting in Conference Room A, just off the lobby, for questioning,” says the manager and takes her leave. JP and Dwayne place the kit down in the room.

“Asphyxiation,” you say, examining the body. “Telltale signs. Bloodshot eyes. No marks around the neck though,”

“Very good,” nods Humphrey. “Get the pillow bagged for evidence, please.”

“Yes, Chief,” says Dwayne.

“Let’s go and talk to the party,” says Humphrey. You follow him out of the room leaving JP and Dwayne to work their magic. You walk down the corridor towards the lift, pressing the button and stepping inside when the doors open. As they close, it’s only you and Humphrey inside. As soon as the sliding doors meet, you’re on each other like tigers, kissing passionately, hands running all over each other’s bodies. Humphrey pushes you up against the wall of the lift, pressing his body into you.

“That was sneaky of you earlier,” you tell him, breathless and fervent. He responds by grabbing your bottom again and pulling your hips into his. He grinds down on you, biting his lip.

The lift slows to a stop and you spring apart, adjusting yourselves, ready to walk through the lobby as if nothing has happened.

You both approach Conference Room A. Humphrey opens the door, allowing you in first. He follows in behind you. As you look around the room to begin taking notes, you notice someone in the room you recognise. You stop. You remind yourself to breathe. He locks eyes with you. You say nothing.

Your ex is standing in front of you.


	2. Chapter 2

**Part Two**

You look down at your notebook again, starting to sweat. You can feel Humphrey’s eyes on you, but you dare not look up. _This cannot be happening_.

“Hello everyone, I’m Detective Inspector Humphrey Goodman of Honoré Police and this is my Detective Sargent,” he says, pointing to you. You force a smile, trying not to look your ex in the eye. “Can you start off by giving me your names and your relationship to the victim, please?”

Like clockwork, you hand Humphrey a pen and a piece of paper from your bag. He takes them and whispers his thanks.

Your ex is the first to speak. “I’m Dave - a friend of the deceased. I’m part of the stag party and I’m… I was… one of the groomsmen.”

The rest of the party speaks, and you take notes without really hearing. Eventually, Humphrey says his parting words, and the two of you leave. You hurry towards the jeep, hearing Humphrey’s heavy footsteps behind you. “What was all that about?” he asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I’m just saying I noticed a bit of a vibe back there,” he says, grabbing your hand and making you stop.

You turn to him, admitting that you like the feel of his hand in yours even though you just want to run away. “It’s nothing, I just know him, that’s all,” you shrug.

“Is he someone from back home?”

“Yeah, but I’ve not seen him in a while.”

“Were you close?”

“Does it matter?” you retort.

“Yes. Look, if you have history with a murder suspect I have to know,” he pleads.

You bite your lip and sigh deeply. “He’s my ex,” you confess. “Things ended badly between us. Right before I left to come here to Saint Marie.”

“What?!” Humphrey exclaims, looking back at the hotel as if trying to put two and two together.

“It’s not a big deal, Humphrey,” you tell him, giving his hand a squeeze.

Humphrey looks at you and smiles, then back at the hotel again. He’s wrestling with something. You can see it in his eyes. “Sweetheart, I’ve got to take you off the case.”

“WHAT?” you cry, pulling your hand away from him.

“Honey, please,” he pleads, but you’re already heading around to the other side of the jeep. “It’s a conflict of interest.”

“Are you telling me I’m not able to do my job properly?” you ask, scornfully, as you climb into the jeep.

“No, I’m not saying that all,” Humphrey replies.

“Then why take me off the case?” you ask, leaning over in the jeep to talk to him through the window. “I can do this, Humphrey. You know I can.”

“I know but I’m just trying to protect you,” he says, opening the door and climbing inside.

“I don’t need your protection,” you tell him.

Humphrey takes the keys out and starts the jeep. You angle your body away from him, looking out of the window, desperately wanting to cry at how horrible the situation is making you feel, but also wanting to hold it together, to prove your point that you can do your job and it won’t get to you. You want to be sick. The nausea rolls over you in waves. You think you might, but you manage to calm yourself down by breathing deeply.

“Are you alright?” Humphrey asks again. You ignore him because if you talk you _will_ be sick. You just concentrate on breathing, in and out, in and out. “Are you having a panic attack?”

“No, I’m fine,” you insist, opening a bottle of water from your bag. “Really. Let’s just go.”

“Okay.”

Humphrey pulls out of the parking space and drives you both back towards the police station, silence falling between you.

When you arrive back, Dwayne and JP have already returned. Having a motorbike is a blessing in heavy traffic. You walk over to your desk and pick up some files you had been working on the day before and put them in your bag.

Dwayne notices you. “Everything alright, Sarge?” he asks.

“I’m off the Seaside Hotel case,” you tell him solemnly.

“Why?”

“Ask him,” you nod to Humphrey, who looks downright miserable. “I’ll see you at home,” you say to him, before turning on your heels and leaving.

The walk back to the Shack isn’t too long and gives you enough time to clear your head. Surely Dave must have known you would be here. Why would he agree to come to Saint Marie? The island isn’t that big. You would have probably run into each other at some point. Maybe Dave was hoping you would. But why not call first? Well, you know the answer to that one. Because you would have slammed the phone down on him and tell him to go to hell.

When you get back, the last thing you want to do is any work, but you force yourself, trying to take your mind off of what’s happened. The hours tick by, and before you know it you hear the familiar sound of the jeep pull up outside. You want to run to Humphrey, throw your arms around him, and sob into his chest, but you just can’t bring yourself to do it. What if he pushes you away? What if you’ve hurt his feelings? Being vulnerable in front of someone was never your strongest attribute. People always took advantage of you if you did.

You hear his steps on the veranda, as he comes around the corner and sees you sitting down at the table, surrounded by paperwork.

“We need to talk,” Humphrey says, gently.

You clear your throat. “I don’t think I can,” you say, getting up from the table and trying to make your way inside but Humphrey stops you, stepping in front of you.

“Baby, please. If you can’t talk then let me - just for a minute. Please just hear me out.”

You step back, leaning against the wooden pillar, with your arms folded. You can feel the tears prickling.

“I’m not talking to you as your DI. I’m talking to you as your boyfriend. Okay, I don’t know what happened between you and Dave, but I can see from your reaction and how you’re feeling that things went really badly. My heart aches for you because I can only imagine the pain you are going through seeing him again, probably for the first time, since you broke up. Now I’m not going to pretend to know what this is like for you, but I want you to know that I’m here for you. I’m here to talk, or not talk, about it. You are the most incredible person I’ve ever met. You are so full of joy, amongst other things. I’d be here all day listing them all. I know who you are. I know what I have –what _we_ have. So, don’t harden your heart… not to me…”

By this point, you crumble. You step forward into his embrace and wrap your arms around his skinny frame, nestling your face into his chest. You sob, hard, harder than you have ever sobbed in your life. He cradles you, stroking your hair and resting his head on top of yours. He lets you cry. How did you ever deserve a man like this? What good had you ever done in the world to deserve him?

“I love you,” you tell him through heaving sobs. “And I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he coos in your ear. “And I love you. Always have, always will.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Part Three**

The next morning, as Humphrey gets ready for work, you slowly get up from the bed. You still feel sick, your mind going around and around like a washing machine. You so desperately wish you could be rushing around, putting your shoes on, with your toothbrush still sticking out of your mouth. But if you’re off the case, there’s no need for you to even head into the office.

“Am I still off the case?” you ask Humphrey, tentatively, as he pulls on his suit jacket.

“At the moment, yes,” Humphrey nods, biting his lip. “But I’m going to call the Commissioner and run it by him, to prove there’s no conflict of interest with me either.”

You smile weakly. “You’re not jealous, are you?”

“Jealous? No,” he smiles, bending over to plant a kiss on your lips. “Do I want to punch him in the face for hurting you? Yes.”

You smile again, kissing him ardently again. “Okay. Well, I’ll continue working on these case files then stop by the station to grab some more later. I could bring you lunch?”

“That would be nice,” grins Humphrey.

You say your goodbyes, listening as Humphrey closes the door of the jeep and drives away. Then, you’re left with your thoughts. The case files that you’re working on are nothing short of boring, nothing as exciting as a murder, and you find yourself getting through them quite quickly. You try not to think about JP or Dwayne being acting Detective Sargent in your place and try to focus on the paper in hand. Eventually, you finish the last one, and you load them back into your bag and start on lunch for you and Humphrey.

Cheese and pickle sandwiches are your favourite, so you make two lots and wrap them in tin foil, putting them into your bag with two bottles of water. You put the bag over your shoulder and head off to the station, basking in the midday sun as you walk.

When you arrive, Humphrey is hunched over his desk, Dwayne is on the phone and JP is in the kitchen. You call out a hello to everyone, feeling very strange to be coming to work halfway through the day. Humphrey stretches, gets up and kisses your cheek.

“I’ll process these files tomorrow,” you tell him, taking them out of your bag and letting them fall onto your desk with a thud.

“Okay,” he nods. “I spoke with the Commissioner first thing –,”

“And he agrees with you. I should be off the case,” you finish.

“How did you know that?”

“Because I agree with you. And him. I know I didn’t at first, but I was just so hurt about seeing Dave for the first time and I completely lost perspective. That’s case and point that I shouldn’t be working it,” you explain. “You didn’t do it to try and be mean or anything. You were being a professional and I wasn’t.”

“Hey, don’t be too hard on yourself,” he tells you, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “Under the circumstances I completely understand.” He kisses you softly, pressing his forehead against yours for a moment, then presses his lips to your forehead. “Thanks for bringing lunch,” he says. “What did you make?”

“Our favourite, of course,” you say, handing him one of the two tinfoil packages.

“What did I do to deserve you?” he whispers to you. You smile, thinking it funny how you were just asking yourself the same question not long ago. “Shall we eat outside?” he asks.

You hold his hand, letting him lead you out of the station. As you leave, you see someone coming up the steps towards the front door. Brown hair, muscular build. You drop Humphrey’s hand when you realise it’s Dave.

“Can we help you?” Humphrey asks.

“Um… hi,” says Dave, looking from you to Humphrey. “I’m here to speak with your Detective Sargent if that’s alright.”

Humphrey turns around and looks at you. You nod, gently, and Humphrey steps back inside the station, giving you a minute.

“What is it, Dave?” you ask, having absolutely no time for him at all.

“Listen, I just need to talk to you.”

“What about?”

“About everything. About this.”

“Unless you’re here to speak to me as a Detective Sargent, about something my police force can help with, I have no interest in speaking to you,” you tell him, plainly.

“Don’t be like that,” Dave sighs.

“I’m just doing my job.”

Dave sighs again. “I just want to talk to you. Meet me tonight at that bar by the harbour.”

“No.”

“Please.”

“No. I’ve told you; I have nothing to say to you,” you insist.

“Don’t you want to know why I’m here? Why I came?” asks Dave.

“Not particularly.”

“You’re lying,” he says with a bitter laugh. “I’ll be at the bar, seven o’clock. Please come.”

“Good day, sir,” you say to him, turning on your heels and walking back inside. As you step through, Humphrey, Dwayne and JP make themselves look busy, but you know for certain that all three of them were listening.

“Oh, has he gone?” asks Humphrey, who was reading a newspaper upside-down. You turn it around for him.

“You know he has,” you smirk. “Shall we?” you say nodding to the door. You both walk outside again. This time you firmly grab Humphrey’s hand and give it a squeeze, sitting down on the bench outside the station that overlooks the busy main road of downtown Honoré. “So, you heard everything right?” you ask, biting into your sandwich.

“Practically, yes,” agrees Humphrey.

“Why does he want to meet me?” you ask.

“Probably because he wants to try and either make you feel guilty for leaving or try and explain himself and get back into your good books. Maybe both?” Humphrey muses.

“I don’t want to know about either. The man is toxic.”

Humphrey nods. “I can believe that.” He looks as though he’s about to add something to that but stops himself and takes another bite of sandwich.

“Go on,” you say to him with a kind nod. “You can talk about it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you insist.

“Well, he’s not coming up well in the investigation. I’m sorry to say that he’s likely our number one suspect at the moment,” says Humphrey gently.

“Why’s that?”

Humphrey hesitates for a moment. “I’m telling you this as my partner, not as my DS.”

“Loud and clear,” you agree.

“It’s just that he tried to get into the victim’s room the night of the murder. But it’s so weird because he walks up to the door, tries unlocking it with his key card, which is of course denied but keeps trying. He gives up after a few goes, then looks at the doors again and then goes into his own room, no problem. No one else tries accessing the room at all during the night. Dave has a motive as well. He was sleeping with the bride to be.”

“That’s who he cheated on me with,” you say solemnly. Humphrey looks at you wide-eyed. You know to continue without him even having to ask. “When I was first offered the job here, I obviously had to take some time to think about it. I went home and told Dave who was really angry, telling me I was a bitch to think about leaving him behind in London. He hated that the job was going to be so far away. When he was in the shower I went through his phone and found texts to someone under a weird name, saying they could meet up without getting caught if I was moving to Saint Marie. When I called the number, a woman picked up. I called the Commissioner first thing the next morning, packed a bag and left. I didn’t even say goodbye.”

“Wow. That must have been hard.”

“It was,” you nod. Your eyes glaze over thinking about again. You hadn’t thought about it in so long, having pushed it down deep inside of you ever since. Suddenly, something springs into your mind that snaps you back into reality. “Hold on,” you say, gripping Humphrey’s forearm. “What were the numbers of the rooms the group were staying in?”

“205 to 209,” replies Humphrey. “Why?”

“Which one was Dave in?”

“206.”

“And the victim?”

“209.”

“He can’t have known.”

“What?”

You grip Humphrey’s arm harder. “Dave – he can’t have known he was trying the wrong door.”

“How? Why?”

“Because Dave is dyslexic. He has trouble telling numbers apart. It’s highly likely he got the 9 on the door confused with a 6. If he’d been drinking, he definitely wouldn’t have realised. That’s why he kept trying the door,” you say, hurriedly. “He genuinely thought it was his room.”

“Oh my god,” Humphrey cries, darting back inside the station, leaving his sandwich on the bench next to you.


	4. Chapter 4

**Part Four**

Once again, you hear the familiar sound of tires on sand as Humphrey pulls into the space next to the Shack. The sound of it wakes you up. You’ve been asleep on the table on the veranda for at least an hour, according to your watch. You stretch, arching your back and making it crack, feeling stiff from where you were laying hunched over for so long. It’s very unlike you to fall asleep like this but it must have been the walk to and from the station that tired you out. The door to the jeep slams shut, and Humphrey’s footsteps thud along the wood of the veranda.

“Hi, gorgeous.”

“Hi, babe.”

As he approaches you at the table, you hand him a beer. He kisses you, sitting down opposite you, and takes a long sip.

“Have I put your investigation into a tailspin?” you ask with a slight smile.

“You most certainly have,” Humphrey agrees with a big sigh. He reaches out, taking your hand across the table, and gives it a squeeze. “Are you really not going?”

"Where?"

"To the bar. To meet Dave."

You look down at your lap, then out to the sea. “I honestly don’t know what to do, Humphrey,” you tell him.

“You should go,” he says, softly, kissing the back of your hand.

“Why?”

“You should. Not for him. For you.”

You bite your lip, trying to stop the emotion rise in your throat.

“It will just end in an argument,” you counter.

“So? Give him hell,” Humphrey laughs. “If you want to go there and curse at him then do it. You deserve some kind of release. Some kind of closure over this.” The tears spill over onto your cheeks. You try to compose yourself, but Humphrey leans over and wipes the tears away. “I hate seeing you hurt. Surely this will help, one way or another?”

You nod. “Okay,” you say, your voice barely even a whisper.

“Want me to take you?”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll walk. It’ll give me a chance to think about what I want to say.”

“Okay,” Humphrey nods.

You get up and lean over, kissing him gently, lingering on his lips. There’s so much you want to say, so much you want to tell him, but you have to get going. You hope the electricity between your lips is enough. The tenderness he shows you, his shallow breath, the gentle touch of his hands as he cradles your face makes you realise it is.

You brush your hands through his hair and say goodbye, starting the walk from the Shack to the harbour.

When you arrive, Catherine comes to greet you with a kiss on both cheeks. “Where is Humphrey?” she asks.

“He’s at home. I’m here to meet… an old friend,” you say, tentatively. “He knows I’m here.”

“Shall I get you a drink?” Catherine asks.

“Rum would be lovely, thanks,” you nod, and approach an empty table. Catherine brings your drink out and you begin to wait, wondering where Dave could be. You take a sip of your rum, but it tastes strange for some reason. Perhaps it’s something in the glass, or maybe Catherine received a bad batch. You try and push past it, checking the clock. It ticks, half-past seven, quarter to eight, eight o’clock. You finally stop nursing your drink and down it. As you make your way to the counter to settle up with Catherine, you see a figure approaching the bar. It’s not who you were expecting. It’s someone better. His golden hair glints in the lamplight as he strolls forward to greet you. You can’t hide your smile.

“Humphrey,” you grin. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, there was somebody I wanted to ask on a date and I thought they might be here,” muses Humphrey with a gentle smirk.

You look around, playing along. “I wonder who it could be.”

“Yes, they were all alone and looking very gorgeous. Now you seem to be the only person in this bar that fits the description.”

You laugh. “Perhaps it’s me you’re looking for then?” you ask, sliding your hands up Humphrey’s chest and winding your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer for a kiss. His hands are on your waist, then wrapped around you. “No really, what are you doing here?” you whisper in his ear, kissing him behind his earlobe.

“I had a hunch he might not show up,” says Humphrey. “You’ve not exactly portrayed him as a reliable, honest guy.”

“No. That’s true.”

“Have you eaten yet?” 

You shake your head. “No, not yet.”

“Do you want to get some dinner?” Humphrey asks.

“Sure.” You both return to your table and Catherine comes over with two menus and takes Humphrey’s order of a rum. You pass. “I’ll just have some water, thanks.”

You both eat the delicious food that Catherine has cooked for you, talking about what you’ve both been up to that day and enjoying the view. Once you fight with Catherine over the discount she’s added to your bill, you both walk home via the beach, shoes in hand, arms around each other. The sun has almost disappeared now. The warm glow of the sun warms you both as it lowers. You reach the Shack, opening up the back doors to let in the sea breeze. Humphrey appears behind you, wrapping his arms around you, cocooning you in his embrace.

“I’m sorry about tonight,” he said tenderly. “I really wanted some closure for you.”

“I know,” you reply. “But I can’t be too mad. I had this amazing date with the most gorgeous guy.”

Humphrey laughs a little. “How does he make you feel?”

“On top of the world,” you tell him, turning your head to him and kissing him. 

The next morning, Humphrey has to rouse you from your slumber, which never usually happens. “Are you alright?” he asks, standing over you.

You yawn. “I’m just so tired,” you tell him.

“You were out like a light last night,” he says, as you sit up.

“Best get going,” you say, getting out of bed and starting to get dressed. You put your bra on which feels particularly uncomfortable today. You adjust and readjust, as Humphrey brings you a cup of coffee.

“What’s going on with my bra?” you ask him. “Am I twisted at the back or something?”

Humphrey looks. “No,” he says. “But your boobs look massive,” he adds, a little more crass than usual. “Not that I’m complaining.”

You arch an eyebrow. “Perhaps it’s shrunk in the wash. I’ll wear another one.”

Once you’re both ready, you head to the station and you begin processing those files like you said you would. Humphrey is still studying the whiteboard when Dwayne and JP arrive.

Not long after, a figure appears in the doorway. You look up and realise it’s Dave. You sigh loudly, getting everyone else’s attention. “Can I help you?” you ask, exasperated.

“Can we talk?” Dave asks you.

“No. I’m at work.”

“Please. It’s important.”

“If it’s about the case you can speak to DI Goodman,” you tell him.

“I don’t want to talk to _him_ I want to talk to you,” he says.

Your eyes flicker up to Humphrey who holds your gaze. You breathe in and out deeply, getting up from your desk and walking past Dave, outside. “You have one minute,” you tell him. “Go.”

“About last night. I’m sorry I stood you up. You must have felt awful waiting there for me,” says Dave. It’s so easy to see through him now.

“I wasn’t waiting for you.”

“Yes, you were. I saw you.”

“So, you were there but didn’t turn up?” you ask.

“I wanted to see if you would come. And you did.”

“Okay fine. I did go. But I went for me. Not for you. I went because I wanted to tell you clearly that I never want to see your face ever again as long as I live. Not even if you’re a corpse. I want you to disappear from my existence and if I even hear your name it will be a day too soon. What you did to me was unforgivable.” He goes to speak but you carry on, not letting him get a word in. “I know what you did. _You_ know what you did. I was going to take this job with or without you and I’m far happier for it. Now leave, and stop harassing me. I’m a Detective Sargent, for God’s sake. Surely, you’re not dumb enough to carry on. I could have a restraining order drawn up and signed by lunchtime. Back. Off!” you tell him firmly, turning on your heels and heading back into the station.

As you enter, Dwayne is smothering his laughter, JP looks shocked and Humphrey looks over to you with pride gleaming from his eyes.

“That was amazing!” Dwayne cackles.

“You seriously set him straight, Sarge,” nods JP, a smile dawning on his face.

“How did that feel?” Humphrey asks you gently.

“Really good,” you nod, starting to feel your heartbeat slow down.

“Now we’ve got to get back to this case,” says Humphrey, clapping his hands together. “Victim was found inside his hotel room, the place staged as a burglary gone wrong. No one tried accessing the room except for Dave who we think tried to under error. No one came in or out of the room after the victim went to bed. How did they get in? We need to crack this – what are we missing?”

As you’re processing the case files, you can’t help but look over your computer at the whiteboard where Humphrey is standing. You rest your chin on your hand, elbow to table, your eyebrows knitted together, deep in thought.

“Humphrey?” you ask, still looking at the board.

“Mmm.”

“What about the balconies?” you ask.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if CCTV shows no one entering the room, they’d had to get in somehow. All the members of the party were in rooms next to each other. No adjoining doors I’m assuming. But the rooms could be close enough together for them to climb over one balcony to the next, right?”

Humphrey whips his head around to face you. “Good grief. You’ve cracked it.”

You sit up straight. “Have I?”

“Yes! Oh my God… Oh, good grief… oh yes that’s brilliant. Brilliant! But hang on – no, of course –,” says Humphrey, tumbling into one of his thought spirals. “Dwayne, gather everyone together. JP, evidence in the box, please. We’ve got a killer to catch.”

Everyone barrels out of the door quickly leaving just you alone in the station. The room, which was suddenly very busy, is all of a sudden drenched in silence. You look back at your computer and the files needing to be processed. This is the last thing you want to be doing. As if reading your mind, Humphrey appears in the doorway again. You look up.

“Forgotten something?” you ask.

“You should come,” he says quietly.

“What?”

“You should come to the hotel with us.”

“I can’t. I’m not on the case,” you say.

“The case is over,” smiles Humphrey. “All we have to do is tell everyone what happened. You should be there for that at least.”

You want to cry all over again. What is going on with you? Instead, you nod and get up, walking towards Humphrey’s outstretched hand which you take firmly.


	5. Chapter 5

**Part Five**

The sound of the toilet flushing echoes around the station. Finally, you have finished processing the files, just as the sun is beginning to set. You look over to Humphrey who is just finishing typing up the reports on today’s result. You have to tell him. You don’t know how he’s going to take it, but he needs to know.

Humphrey looks up at you, obviously feeling you study him.

“Hi,” he whispers.

“Hi.”

“Are you okay?” he asks. You hang your head. How do you even begin? Humphrey gets up from the desk and walks over to you. “You’ve not seemed like yourself for a while,” he says, taking your hands in his and rubbing his thumb across the back of them. “I don’t just mean about Dave; I mean something else.”

“I know,” you agree, awkwardly shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

“To be honest, I don’t really blame you,” says Humphrey with a sigh. “I knew it was all too good to be true and it was only a matter of time really.”

“What are you talking about?” you ask.

“You’ve been feeling really sick lately, probably anxious, and sleeping a lot which is a sure sign of depression – you’re obviously bored of me. You’re not happy here anymore. And then everything with Dave happened and probably made you question everything which I don’t blame you, of course,” he rambles. “I totally understand and it’s not going to affect our working relationship. I promise.”

You can scarcely breathe. “Humphrey, are you breaking up with me?” you ask, feeling your voice start to shake.

“No – good grief. Of course not. But aren’t you breaking up with me?”

“No!” you cry, quickly wrapping your arms around him as if he could slip away at any moment. “No. No, Humphrey. Never.”

“Oh, well that’s a relief. Because I was really worried for a second that maybe you might be,” he sighs.

You pull away, cupping his face in your hands. “Humphrey, I love you. I don’t want to break up with you. Not now, not ever,” you tell him, kissing him ardently.

“I love you too,” he says, sighing again. “I can’t tell you how relieved I feel.” The two of you stand there for a moment whilst Humphrey comes down from the adrenalin. “Well, if you don’t want to break up with me, what is it? There’s obviously something on your mind.”

You bite your lip and step back, taking his hands in yours again. You need to steady yourself, and him, for this shock. You need to put the matter delicately. “Well, you see, the thing is… Humphrey, I’m pregnant.”

Humphrey’s face drops with shock. “WHAT?”

You try and suppress a smile, try to hide your true feelings in case they don’t match his, but you can’t help yourself grinning from ear to ear. “I know. I just did a test and it’s positive.”

“Are you sure?” he asks. You can tell his mouth has gone completely dry.

“I think so. I mean all the signs are there. The tiredness, the sickness, feeling dizzy, and my period is late,” you tell him. “I never realised before today because we’ve been so busy but it’s definitely late.”

“Oh god,” he says, putting his hand over his mouth.

“It’s just – I know we never really talked about it but –,” but before you can say anymore, Humphrey presses a kiss to your lips, hard and reassuring, excited and passionate. “How do you feel?” you ask him when he pulls away.

“Oh my God,” he says again, tears sparkling in his eyes. “Oh, I’m so happy.”

“You are?” You ask, feeling yourself well up.

Humphrey picks you up and spins you around, making you shriek with laughter. He puts you down, and looks down at your stomach, cradling it in his hand. “I’m going to be a father?” he asks, tears pouring down his cheeks. You nod, kissing him again. For a moment you hug each other close, holding onto each other tightly, reveling in the good news. “We’re going to be parents?” he asks again.

“Yes, Humphrey, we’re going to be parents.”

You both lock up the police station and head down to the jeep, where Humphrey drives one-handed, this time, his other hand on your stomach. You love the feel of his palm against your tummy, thinking about how one day it will swell with your growing child. When you get back to the Shack, you have a quick bite to eat before rolling into bed together, but both of you too excited to sleep. Humphrey’s hand is still on your stomach.

“There’s a baby in there,” he says, looking down at your tummy.

“I know. I’ll call the doctor in the morning and set up an appointment for us – just to have everything confirmed,” you tell him.

“That’s our baby in there.”

“Yes, it is Humphrey,” you laugh. “I didn’t know you’d be so giddy about it.”

“We made a baby?” he half-asks.

“Yes,” you giggle. “Yes, that does tend to happen.”

“What are we going to call them?”

You look up at the ceiling and think for a moment. “I don’t know,” you muse. “What do you think?”

“How about Dave?” asked Humphrey, stifling a laugh.

You pick up the pillow and bat him over the head with it. “Shut up!” you cackle.

“Alright, alright!” Humphrey calls from behind the pillow. “Truce. Truce!” You stop playfighting and lay down again. “Besides, I know it’s a girl.”

“How do you know?”

“Father’s intuition,” he says, seriously. 

“You’ve only been a father five minutes!” you laugh.

“I know but I just have a feeling. Trust me, it’s a girl,” he says sweetly.

“Well just to play opposites, I think we’re having a boy.”

Humphrey laughs. “Fine, we’ll make a bet. Our first post-partum date night – loser pays.” Humphrey extends a hand. You look at it and realise he is deadly serious.

“Alright, you’re on,” you tell him, shaking his hand firmly.

You both lie back, staring at the ceiling, thinking about your little shared secret. “I suppose we should go to the supermarket tomorrow,” says Humphrey. “Stock up on lots of fruit and vegetables.”

“Yes, I’ll be eating for two now,” you grin. Humphrey’s hand snakes back over to your stomach and rubs it affectionately. “Oh, and you know what that means?”

“No, what?”

You smirk. “It means you’ll be drinking for two.”

You both laugh. “That’s one way to improve my rum intolerance,” Humphrey giggles. You gently stroke his face with your thumb, the other hand caressing the top of his hand that cradles your belly. This wasn’t what you expected when you first came to Saint Marie. No. It’s a whole lot better.


End file.
